


The Little Kappa

by summerbutterfly



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-09
Updated: 2011-05-09
Packaged: 2017-10-19 04:24:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/196847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerbutterfly/pseuds/summerbutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A re-imagining of The Little Mermaid, as told by Cho Hakkai.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Little Kappa

The Little Kappa  
~ as told by Cho Hakkai~

 

It began the way all good stories begin – with a premise so extraordinary it could only happen in a fairytale. For the record, my name is Cho Hakkai. I live in a small village on the bank of a river. I teach at the local school and I like to read. I am a fairly unremarkable man, of average height and average build with no out-of-the-ordinary habits to speak of. I live alone, or at least I did, and once upon a time, and I was happy in that way.

This is the story of how that changed.

I tend to think it was my solitude that led to this. I tend to think I must have been broadcasting some unconscious need for warmth and companionship because I hadn’t always been alone. I had once lived with someone very dear to me. Someone I claimed to love, but there will be time enough for theories when we’re done. For now, I have a tale to tell you. One that begins with a knock on my door, and the arrival of a man with blood-red hair and sunset-colored eyes.

I don’t know what was more of a shock - him standing there, damp and naked or my own reaction to seeing him as such. Admittedly, I couldn’t stop staring. He was tall. Lean. Oddly beautiful in a way I couldn’t explain. Maybe it was his skin, luminous even without the moon to light it. Or his eyes, which were as intent as they were shy. I remember he didn’t speak. Nor did he show any signs of discomfort or cold. He just looked at me, a soft smile on his pale pink lips, and I heard myself inviting him in.

He accepted, pushing past me and into my humble home with unexpected eagerness. It was as if he had never been in such a place before and I let him look around while I went to see if I could find anything that might cover him. I succeeded in digging out an old blanket, and draped it over his shoulders while he was standing at my desk, examining my array of writing implements. He seemed startled at first, as if the fabric was something foreign and unfamiliar. But slowly, he came around, and before long he was examining it with the same scrutiny he’d given my desk, flashing me a wide grin as he wrapped himself in the soft cloth.

I found myself smiling in return, his childish enthusiasm charming and infectious. I realized then that I didn’t care where he was from or about his history. I only cared that he was here, with me. Wherever he came from wasn’t important.

Whoever he was didn’t matter.

We passed that first night in companionable silence. He didn’t seem to want to talk, so I didn’t make him. Instead, I made a pot of tea and settled in to read, an act I would often partake in when struck with bouts of insomnia. It was a little awkward, but my friend and his blanket soon became a natural part of the scene. And at some point, I must have fallen asleep because next thing I knew sunlight was streaming through the river-facing window and my red-haired friend was gone.

I didn’t see him again until several nights later, and our second encounter was similar to the first with one exception. Instead of appearing to me naked, my friend arrived garbed in my blanket. The green-grey material was wrapped around his waist and held in place by a length of braided fiber, and he smiled almost knowingly as I raised an eyebrow. Again, I invited him in and again he spent a contented night watching me read.

Again he was gone when I woke, but this time, I knew instinctively he’d be back.

On the night of his third visit, I started talking.

It was probably the loneliness. Or maybe it was some misguided notion that this red-haired visitor was now truly my friend. Either way, I told him things- my name, what I did, where I’d come from – and he listened in rapt attention, as if I were revealing to him the secrets of the universe.

We fell into an odd routine after that. His visits went from occasional to nightly, and I went from expecting to be alone to planning my evenings with him in mind. By the second week, I was cooking him dinner and enjoying the way he ate everything I gave him with gusto. By the third week, I’d coaxed him into trying some tea. The fourth week, I got him to ditch the blanket and wear proper clothes, and by the fifth week, I started to read aloud to him from my collection of books. The reading seemed to really enchant him, and each time I would choose a new book, he’d pace behind me, eyes focused expectantly on my hands as they selected a title from the shelf. Through trial and error, I discovered he especially enjoyed adventure stories, though he seemed to take to the poetry quite well. He actually made me re-read Yeats sometime near the beginning of the third month, a development that delighted me to no end.

And then, as spring became summer, our friendship began to evolve.

I admit it caught me off guard. I was aware that he was looking at me differently (and I him) but it wasn’t until one of us acted that it really sunk in. I hadn’t let myself realize how deep my feelings for my friend ran, probably on purpose.

But my friend had no such qualms.

It was after dinner. I had made sukiyaki and I was finishing up the dishes and preparing to put the kettle on when he came up behind me and put his hand on my shoulder. The night was humid so I’d left my shirt undone, and I could feel his skin, cool in spite of the heat. His long fingers brushed my neck, sliding to my jaw to trace the shape of my face.

I held perfectly still, almost afraid to breathe.

He touched me for several minutes before I finally had the presence of mind to turn around. And when I did, I found he was mere inches away, his soft mouth so close I could feel his breath. In spite of the heat, in spite of everything, I felt myself lean in, moving closer to his slender frame. And I don’t know who closed the final gap, but I do know that in the next moment, we were kissing, deep and long.

My fingers tangled in the silk of his hair. I pulled him even nearer as his hands took my waist. His lips parted and I felt his tongue touch mine. I responded by opening wider, coaxing him to come and play. He seemed to like this, and nudged me, sending me a step backwards and away from the sink. He continued to nudge me until the back of my legs hit the frame of my bed and we tumbled down on my mattress in a tangled heap of lips and limbs. I think I moaned as his weight settled on top of me, and I know I gasped as cool fingers brushed my nipples. In the blink of an eye, my shirt was gone and my pants were open, and I could do nothing but writhe as he began tasting every inch of my pliant and willing body.

He made love to me the way no one ever had before, drawing out my pleasure to the point I thought I might break. Every touch, every kiss was dripping with desire, and I found myself wantonly begging for more even after I’d reached my peak.

It was the first night I slept soundly since I’d come to live alone.

If I had known what I’d be facing the next morning, I would have happily never woken.

I’m not sure when I realized something was wrong. Maybe it was when I realized there was no longer the warm weight of a body on top of me, or maybe it was when I realized that there were strange noises coming from the other side of the bed. I cracked open an eye. My friend lay there, curled in a tiny ball, his breathing harsh and raspy. It sounded as if his lungs weren’t getting enough oxygen and I sat up, ready to ask what was wrong. But the words died on my lips as my vision came into full focus. Because lying next to me wasn’t my friend.

It was a river youkai.

Admittedly, the creature looked far too tortured for me to be afraid, but I did back up, an act which only seemed to make things worse. Long fingers reached out to me, and between the harsh breaths, I heard someone whisper my name. I ignored it at first, thinking perhaps this was some trick of my imagination, but I heard it again.

“H...Hakkai...”

And that’s when I knew.

My friend must have seen my shock because he immediately covered his face with webbed fingers. “Gods, don’t look,” he wheezed. “Don’t...you weren’t ever supposed to see this. Don’t look!”

“Why wasn’t I supposed to see?” My body felt numb, my heart like lead. Half of me wanted to reach for him but the other half was already going over the consequences of our interspecies intimacy. If anyone found out, we would be punished. Harshly.

In a village like mine, we would pay with our lives.

“Because it was supposed to make me human,” he whispered. “Falling in love with you, it was supposed to...she said if I gave up my voice...”

The air around him suddenly started to shimmer and I backed up even further. Out of nowhere, hands appeared around my friend’s throat and I heard him gasp as long, clawed fingers pressed hard against his windpipe.

“You never listen.” The voice was not human and I felt a cold chill run down my spine. “First of all, I said you needed to find a _prince_. Second, I never said seducing a prince would turn you human. I said if you could _do it_ I’d return your voice and grant you one wish.”

My friend closed his eyes, face contorted with anger and pain. “I wish to be human,” he ground out.

The mysterious voice laughed. “You forgetting about rule number one.” The hands tightened and my friend gasped again. “While you have definitely found yourself a beautiful specimen, I’m afraid this one does not qualify as a prince, little kappa. Can you not see his soul? It is tainted by years of sin. He is a murderer, and a letch. He had sexual relations with his sister and she died carrying his child.”

My friend’s eyes opened and he looked at me, and I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. The mysterious entity was not wrong. My past was certainly tainted with things I cared not to speak about, but what hurt the most was the way my friend’s gaze remained so defiant. So loving.

I almost wish he’d stared at me with outright scorn.

“I don’t care.” His voice was weakening, even as he struggled to keep it strong. “I don’t care what he is, I love him. I want to stay with him. You _promised_.”

“You really are an idiot, little one. Now come on. I’ve wasted enough time indulging your fantasies.”

“But...”

“Wait!” I leapt forward, reaching out. I though if I could just grab hold of him, maybe I could reason with the spirit that was trying to take him away. Maybe I could tell it that I’d become a prince if it meant he could stay and love me and be my companion.

But I was too slow and my hand swept through empty air. The space they’d occupied was vacant, devoid of even the smallest traces of their energy.

They were gone. Back to wherever they came from.

And I was alone. Again.

 

****

The rest of my summer passed in solitude. And as summer became fall and fall became winter, I remained lost in that solitude, even going so far as to quit my job and hole up in my tiny house. I knew such a thing made the villagers whisper. I knew hey spoke of me as if I had lost my mind. I didn’t bother to correct them. Mind, heart- what difference did it make? What did the organ matter when the despair was this black?

I became obsessed with storybooks. Since our affair had so much resembled a fairytale, I sought out every one I could find and read them over and over, searching for a clue. But they all ended the same. The handsome prince arrived and rescued the princess and sealed their happily ever after with a kiss. There were no stories that told of spirits that stole true loves away. No stories that ended in darkness and mystery.

I felt myself spiraling down towards the point of no return.

And then the first winter snow brought me a new kind of visitor.

I must have been a frightful mess when I opened the door, but the robed figure and his companion didn’t seem to be bothered. Instead, they politely asked if they could impose on my hospitality rather than spend the night in the cold. And while I was depressed, I wasn’t heartless, so I let them in and brewed them tea and offered up what little food I had to the robed man’s acolyte. The man himself refused anything more than the tea and dry clothes, regarding me over the rim of his cup with wary violet eyes.

“So,” he said after they’d settled in. “What’s your problem?”

I was a stunned at being addressed so bluntly. “I’m afraid I’m not sure what you mean,” I returned.

“I mean you look like hell,” the man said. “You’re skin is sallow, you’re emaciated and you have a beard that looks like a wild bear took up residence on your face.” He sipped his tea as I blinked. “So what’s wrong with you? Terminal illness?”

“No, it’s nothing so—“

“Broken heart?”

My jaw snapped shut.

It was enough of a reaction to affirm his statement. “I see,” he said. “Broken heart. So what exactly is so amazing about her that you’d throw your life away?”

“Him,” I corrected. “ _She_ died a long time ago. This one’s a him.”

The priest raised an eyebrow, but passed no judgment on the pronoun change. Instead, he fished out a pack of cigarettes from somewhere inside his robes. His acolyte, seeing his master reaching for the smokes, handed over a lighter and the priest lit up, taking a long drag. “All right, then. So what’s so great about _him_ that you feel the need to throw your life away? Why is he so important?”

I looked down at the table. “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I’m not sure. I didn’t even know him that well it just...” My fingers tightened around my cup. “I guess it’s just that he made me feel again. After so long...It felt good to be loved.”

The priest propped his chin up on his palm. “Fair enough,” he said. “But he dumped you?”

“No, he was forcibly taken away.”

The priest’s second eyebrow joined the first. “By who?”

I looked out the window toward the frozen river. “I don’t know,” I said. “I never saw its face.”

The priest’s eyes narrowed as he followed my gaze. He contemplated the frozen stretch of water for a long time before he spoke again.

“So what do you plan to do about it?” he asked finally. “Besides die, I mean. Which won’t bring him back, it will just make you look stupid.”

I regarded him with a cool stare. “What can I do?” I asked. “I’m open to suggestions if you have any.”

The priest snorted. “This house is full of books,” he said. “Which means you’re not nearly as stupid as you are acting right now. You really think you’re that helpless?”

“He’s under a curse,” I snapped. “Forgive me for being rude, but there is very little in most books about curse-breaking for the ordinary man!”

“Oh please, spare me the theatrics.” The priest reached into his robes and drew out a revolver. He set it on the table as I drew back. “It doesn’t matter what or who constitutes your enemy. If you want to break a curse, you terminate the source.”

My wide-eyed stare alternated between the gun and the robed man’s face for several long, silent minutes.

“The source?” I repeated and my guest nodded.

“The source,” he affirmed. “Dead people can’t make curses.”

I looked back down at the weapon on the table. “I don’t believe this is a person,” I murmured. “In the case of a non-human, how do I accomplish termination with an ordinary handgun?”

My visitor fixed me with an intense violet-tinged stare. “What makes you think that’s an ordinary handgun?” he questioned.

My holy visitors left the next morning. I watched them go until there was nothing left but footprints in the snow. I thought about the gun the priest had left on my table, and I looked out over the river, my mind turning. I wouldn’t be able to act until the thaw, but even then I couldn’t just go diving into the river without a plan.

My winter coat hung next to the door.

I grabbed it and went out.

I was lucky in the sense that my village had a library and, though not well stocked, it had a decent reference section. I pulled out any and all books pertaining to youkai, and scoured them for information. There really wasn’t much. Most who had encounters with youkai didn’t live to tell about it, and those that did retained sketchy memories at best. Descriptions of incidents varied wildly, but the ones I focused on were those happening around or near bodies of water. Those seemed to at least have some common elements.

More than one of them mentioned a dark entity that seemed to take immense pleasure in acts of violence.

When not at the library, I spent my time practicing my aim in the back yard. The squirrels didn’t like it much, chattering at me like an angry chorus. I ignored them, focusing on the future and my goal. A bad shot was no good to anyone, and I had the feeling that if I screwed this up, I wasn’t getting a second chance.

Winter thawed into spring.

I bided my time, watching the ice break free of the river.

On the equinox, I made my move.

The old folk tales pertaining to youkai often stressed taking preventive measures if you wanted to avoid an attack. If you wanted them to leave you alone, set out offerings. For forest youkai, leave meat. For grassland youkai, leave grains. For river youkai, leave vegetables, especially cucumbers. Arrange the food far enough away so that they do not feel there is any threat to their taking it. Wait, and they will come.

I did as the tales instructed.

Eventually, a youkai came, a small, squatty-looking fellow with moss-green hair and silver-tinted skin. He didn’t have my friend’s grace and finesse as he scurried onto the bank, and he inspected the plate of food with a wary eye that was more animal than human.

I held my breath, willing myself to merge with the shadows. I had to wait until he was fully distracted before doing anything. I had to wait for him to drop his guard. The moon overhead climbed through the sky.

When it reached its zenith, I pounced.

The youkai’s terrified scream echoed off the river’s muddy banks.

“Be quiet or I’ll kill you.” I cocked my pistol, wedging it up under the youkai’s chin. My opposite hand pressed against his chest, pinning him to the ground. “I need to ask you some questions about a recent event, and you _will_ answer them if you want to live.”

“I don’t know anything about missing children,” the youkai whimpered. “I didn’t take them, none of us did. It was _her_ , I swear.”

“Her. Her who?” I kept my expression stony even as my heart leapt at his words. This could very well wind up being easier than I had imagined.

“The witch,” the youkai said. “She likes to kidnap babies and turn them into changelings! She likes the boys best, but she’ll take girls, too. She...she uses them to do bad things and kills them when they don’t obey. It’s her that’s been stealing the babies. Not us, honest!”

I loosened my hold on him a fraction as I took in his words. “Do you know where this witch lives?” I asked. “Can you take me to her?”

The youkai nodded. “Just please don’t kill me,” he whispered. “Please. So many of us have already died. Please don’t kill me.”

“I won’t kill you,” I said. “But you have to take me to her. She and I have business.”

The youkai nodded mutely, staring at me with bulging, fish-like eyes.

I released him, and the youkai shook himself and got to his feet. He was even shorter than I’d first thought, coming up only to the center of my chest. He also had an odd, bowl-shaped depression in the top of his skull and there was very little about him that seemed human. Unlike my friend who, even in youkai form, seemed to maintain an element of humanity, this youkai was definitely not of my world.

The discontinuity made me curious.

“One other thing,” I said. “Do you know a youkai with red hair and red eyes?”

The river dweller looked frightened again. “Red hair and eyes? Yes...I know him.”

My throat tightened. “Where is he?” I asked.

Understanding dawned in the youkai’s eyes. “He belongs to the witch,” he said. “He’s her favorite changeling. The one that warms her bed.”

I tried not to wince at the thought of him being touched by another.

“Is he the one you seek?” the youkai asked. “Is that why you are hunting the witch?”

“He is dear to me,” I said at length. “And yes, he is why I am hunting the witch.”

The youkai had nothing to say to that. Instead he wrapped his webbed hand around my wrist and pulled me toward the riverbank. “Hold your breath and close your eyes,” he instructed. “Do not open them until you feel me let go. I will take you to her but you must not breathe and you must not look until I say. Do you understand?”

I nodded having no other choice. The youkai’s grip tightened and he lunged forward. My feet left the ground. For an instant, we were airborne and then we hit the water head on. My body was engulfed by a shock of cold and I felt myself falling.

We went down fast. And the deeper we went, the tighter the pressure on my lungs became. My instincts screamed at me to get out. To kick back to the surface and take a breath. But I remembered what my guide said and I thought of my friend, of his easy smile and his gentle kiss.

I willed myself to keep still and ignore my body’s panicked screams for oxygen.

We kept going down.

And then my feet hit bottom.

The pressure disappeared from my wrist and the weight on my lungs eased. I opened my eyes. I was standing in what looked like a well shaft, the ground beneath my feet sand, and surrounding me on all sides were towering walls of smooth rock. There were no footholds, no way to climb my way out. There were also no signs of life, but miraculously, I could breathe.

I let my eyes sweep the room. There were no signs of life, not even plants.

Which is why I jumped when I felt icy fingers on the back of my neck.

“Well, well, well,” purred a voice. I recognized it instantly and swung around. I could see ripples where the water was recently disturbed, but no physical body. “We meet again, pretty one. Welcome.”

I forced my eyes to focus on where the water had taken on faint shimmer. There was still no form, but it was something.

“Are you the witch?” I asked.

“I prefer River Mistress,” the voice replied, “but there are those who say I’m a witch.”

“I hear you grant wishes,” I said.

“That’s right,” she said. “Do you have a wish you want granted?”

“Yes,” I said. “Give me back my lover.”

A face suddenly appeared in front of me, as horrifying as it was beautiful. It was the face of my dead sister, and I took an involuntary step back.

“This lover?” The lips moved and the voice spoke, but they were not those of Kanan. “That’s an easy enough request. And the fee isn’t very high for the raising of the dead. If that is what you truly want, that is.”

I closed my eyes and fought back the bile that rose in my throat. “That’s not what I want,” I said. “I don’t want her. I want the man you took from me.”

The shimmer swirled and grew dark and I could feel a cold sort of anger. “What do you want with that useless bit of flesh?” she demanded. “He’s an abomination, a freak.”

“He is my friend,” I said.

“Your friend is an abomination.”

“If he’s such an abomination, why not let him go?”

Invisible tendrils wound themselves around my waist and threaded through my hair. The water glowed red and I could have sworn I heard the faint sound of laughter. “Considering the mischief you two got up to, I don’t think I need to explain why I don’t let him go. He’s a fantastic lover,. It gets lonely down here, and if he surface dwellers don’t want him, he might as well be mine.” A tendril slid under my shirt and grazed over my chest. “Besides, if I hadn’t taken him, he would have been killed. So would you if anyone found out about what you did.”

I itched to shove her away. To push her back and free myself from her terrible grip. But I couldn’t risk making her angry. I needed her to believe she’d won, so I willed myself to relax.

“Perhaps you’re right,” I said. “But if that is the case, then please. Take me, too. Don’t leave me behind. I am so lonely and I can no longer hide my shame.”

“Hmmm, tempting offer.” Something slid over my ass. “But unfortunately pretty one, you are too human. Your body will never fully adapt to living down here and you will die before I’ve had much of a chance to play with you.”

“Well, if I cannot stay, and he cannot go, will you allow me to ask for a different wish?”

“Depends on what it is.”

I put as much sincerity into my voice as I could muster. “Allow me to spend one night here. In your bed. With both of you. Allow me one last pleasurable memory before I return to my life of despair.”

I could feel her surprise. It was not the request she’d been expecting and the tendrils of shimmering water stirred excitedly.

“With both of us?” she repeated.

“Yes,” I said. “I cannot take him from you, and I know you won’t stand by and allow us to be alone, so let’s just do it together. Let’s all get what we want.”

Her magic unwrapped itself from my body, sliding back and binding together to create a corporeal form. The form walked toward me, raven hair flowing, dark eyes intent. A clawed hand cupped my chin. “I will grant that wish, pretty one. And I will consider the willing donation of your body as your payment. Come with me. There’s no sense in wasting any more time.”

The witch turned, walking toward a gap in the walls that I hadn’t noticed before. I followed, doing my best to keep up. It was hard for me to walk underwater. My body, unlike hers, was not built for it.

We passed through the gap into a huge cavern. There was no natural light, only patches of phosphorescent moss clinging to the walls and floor. I could dimly make out other shapes around us, but none of them seemed to notice or care that I was there. I tried to scan them, to see if my friend was among them, but none looked familiar.

Then I realized he was sitting apart, curled in the corner, red hair hanging in scarlet waves down his broad back. A heavy, metal chain ran from his neck to the floor, anchoring him to the ground.

Next to him was what appeared to be some sort of bed.

“Gojyo!” The witch’s form had fully materialized now, and I could see she was certainly female and sporting some very impressive curves. “Get up my pet. We have a visitor.”

My lover raised his head from where it rested between his arms, eyes dull with resignation. He hadn’t spotted me yet, and it took everything in me not to call out to him. To tell him I had come and everything would be ok.

“I am my mistress’s humble servant,” he said, getting to his feet. I noticed she’d allowed him the modesty of a short, ragged robe. “What my mistress asks for, I will provide.”

“Yes, yes, I know.” The witch waved an impatient hand. “Get undressed, lover. We have a guest.”

I did not miss the flash of fear that crossed his face and I clenched my fists. Needing to reassure him that I wasn’t whatever terrible addition she’d brought home in the past, I stepped out. I heard his breath catch as he saw me, and his hand trembled as he untied his shoddy robe.

I stood where I was and forced a smile.

The witch looked back and forth between the two of us.

“You. Undress as well,” she said, looking at me. “No sense in being modest when half the party is already intimately familiar with your body.”

I said nothing, but removed my clothing as asked. I could feel my friend’s gaze burning into me, and I could almost hear him calling out to me to run away. I returned his gaze, making a silent attempt to reassure him that everything would be fine.

I walked over and put my clothing in a neat pile near the witch’s bed.

She seemed pleased by my speedy obedience.

“Touch him,” she said, and the chains holding Gojyo fell away. He ran to me, throwing himself against me with a choked noise and I gathered him close, pressing my mouth against his ear.

“It’s going to be all right,” I whispered. “I’m going to get both of us out of here, I promise.”

He nodded, an almost imperceptible movement and pulled me in tighter. “You came for me,” he murmured. “I can’t believe you came for me.”

“Of course I did,” I said. “And I’m leaving with you.”

“She won’t let you. She won’t let either of us.”

“I don’t plan on giving her much of a choice.” I stroked his soft hair.

He pulled me tighter, hands digging into my back.

“Um, hello. Boring.” The witch strode over to her bed and sprawled across it, an icon of feminine beauty. “Do some sexy touching would you please? I don’t often get to see two men go at it and I’d like to get to the rest of the sex some time this millennium.”

My friend tensed. I placed a soothing hand against his hip.

“Ignore her,” I said. “Pretend she’s not here. Focus on me. Follow my lead.”

I drew his lips to mine, kissing him softly before I dropped to my knees. I kissed down his chest and across his trembling stomach. He was not aroused. I could tell he wanted to be, but she frightened him. I frightened him. Not my touch, but the possibility that the witch would change her mind and do me harm.

“Eyes on me,” I repeated, and reluctantly his deep red eyes swung down. I kissed his hip, holding his gaze as I locked my arms behind his knees. I pulled until he sank down, bringing us face-to-face again.

“I need you to go to her,” I murmured. “I need you to get her attention.” I kissed his nose, his chin. His fluttering eyelashes. “Say you need her to help you get excited. Flatter her in some way. You must know how.”

“I do,” he said. “How long do you need?”

“Just a few seconds.”

My friend nodded. He pulled me into a deep, sensual kiss and then got to his feet, turning for his mistress’s bed.

“Mistress, my body won’t respond to him,” he said, and he sounded so convincingly unhappy I almost believed him. “I’ve been trained so long only to respond to your touch I don’t know if I can do this. Please help me?”

The witch gave him a condescending smirk.

“You’re not much good to me if your dick becomes as useless as the rest of you, so I suppose,” she said.

I bristled at her words. My friend, however, walked towards her, and as soon as he’d blocked me from her view, I quickly drew the priest’s revolver from my pants pocket. I took care to conceal it as my friend settled himself on the witches lap. I could see her hands reaching for him, touching him in the most intimate of ways. I could see his body starting to respond.

I rose to my feet, coming up silently behind him. The witch spared me only a perfunctory glance before returning her attention to her plaything.

“Not much of a lover,” she taunted, hands gliding back and forth. “You slept with him, you love him but you can’t even get him aroused. He’s never had this problem with me. Have you Gojyo?”

My friend didn’t answer. I settled down close against his back.

“Perhaps it’s stage fright,” I suggested.

“Perhaps it’s you,” the witch reiterated.

I fingered the revolver’s smooth metal. “Perhaps it’s not worth arguing,” I concluded, and in one fluid motion, I pulled the gun from behind my back and pressed it to her forehead.

I didn’t even give her even a moment to register the action before I pulled the trigger.

The revolver went off with a resounding crack, and the recoil sent me sprawling. I had about a second to wonder why there was such a ferocious kickback and then the world exploded into a blinding ball of white light. Water rushed by kicking up mud and plant matter until I could no longer see, and the weight of the river’s depth pushed me to the floor. The familiar burn of oxygen deprivation hit my lungs. I struggled to regain my feet but found I couldn’t move.

I tried to call out for my friend. I tried to push myself even to my elbows, but the crush of the water was too much. I recalled the witch’s notion that I was too human to survive down here. Too human, too frail and I felt a panicked sort of despair. All the planning, all the work. All the clinging to the ember of hope that the priest’s visit had ignited in me, and now here I was, about to die by the hand of my own foolishness. I was not worthy of love. How could I have deluded myself into thinking otherwise?

I was ready to let myself succumb to such macabre thoughts when something- or some _one_ \- grabbed me from behind.

I was hauled against a broad chest and there was a jolt of movement. Suddenly, I was no longer pressed against the ground. I wasn’t standing, but I had risen out of the sand and seemed to be hovering. I tried to raise my head, but my body refused to obey. Swirls of red curled around me.

To my addled brain, it looked almost like I was surrounded by blood.

I closed my eyes. I was dimly aware that the water seemed less mud-choked, but as I still couldn’t breathe, that meant little. If I couldn’t breathe, I would die. There were no two ways about it.

Again I cursed my own foolishness.  
.  
And then, without warning, my body broke through the river’s surface and I was flung facedown into a pile of thick, reedy mud.

I gasped, air rushing back into my aching lungs. The afternoon sun was bright against my blurry eyes, and I buried my face in my arms until I had managed to return my breathing to normal. Only then did I dare look up, squinting at the bank, heart in my throat as I scanned what I could see.

I almost wept when I saw that my friend lay only few feet away covered in muck.

He looked...human.

I tried to sit up, but my back refused to hold my weight. Seeing this, my friend edged closer, reaching out for me. He put his hand over mine and gave me a tired smile and I felt something damp on my cheeks.

It was far too saline to be river water, but I was too relieved to care.

We didn’t speak. We didn’t move. We simply lay in the warm sun until the shadows grew long and the air grew chill. At that point, we hauled ourselves unsteadily to the house, taking turns using my old copper tub to clean up before settling down in my narrow bed. I slept wrapped around him, afraid that if I let go, this might prove to be nothing more than a desperate dream. But when the sun rose the next morning, my friend was still there and still human.

He kissed me hello and nuzzled my cheek.

“I’ve never stayed for breakfast,” he murmured. “Do you cook as well in the morning as you do at night?”

I smiled splaying my hands against his chest. “I’m pretty sure I do. We’ll have to go get some ingredients from the garden, though.”

“Mmmm, really? Right now?”

“No...not right now. But eventually.”

“Hmmm, I like eventually.”

We snuggled together again, dozing and kissing until well after noon. Then we dressed, myself fully, my lover Gojyo in just a pair of my pants and wandered out back to my vegetable garden. We poked around to see what was ready and when we had enough ingredients, we went back inside and I cooked us a lovely meal.

The scenario would repeat itself in much the same fashion for the remainder of the spring.

******

I’d like to say it ended there. I’d like to say we lived happily ever after in my tiny cottage, eating together and making love, but that’s not exactly how it happened. For you see, as winter again reared her snowy head, the priest returned, acolyte in tow and once again politely requested my hospitality.

I granted it, indebted to him in more ways than I felt I could articulate, and once again, he accepted only tea and a dry shirt despite my offers. However, as the four of us sipped our after dinner tea around my wooden table, the priest fixed me with his purple gaze and asked a question that would change our lives forever.

“How do you two feel about taking a Journey to the West?” he asked. “I’ve been given a task...”

**Author's Note:**

> Illustrations by 2nds2disaster can be found [here](http://i725.photobucket.com/albums/ww260/ehvulpants/kappa.jpg), [here](http://i725.photobucket.com/albums/ww260/ehvulpants/bishwist1.jpg) [ and here ](http://i725.photobucket.com/albums/ww260/ehvulpants/sadkappa1web.jpg)


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